


i like me better

by peachesandlesbians



Series: if music be the food of love, play on [4]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, No Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians
Summary: Miranda thinks about how Andy has changed her.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: if music be the food of love, play on [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739026
Comments: 15
Kudos: 119





	i like me better

_To be young and in love in New York City_

_To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me_

_To be drunk and in love in New York City_

_Midnight into morning coffee_

_Burning through the hours talking_

Miranda was well aware of the sparkle New York City held. Why, she experienced it herself when she was a young girl. Immigrating to America, the land of freedom and new beginnings, was a blessing, but New York City (New York City!) was something else entirely. The hustle and bustle was a far cry from the barren lands she lived on. Buildings kept on climbing and towered over her. But the people—everywhere she went, she met people with the potential to leave a mark on the world. Not only did Miranda befriend them but later, she bested them.

So when people called New York City “the greatest city on Earth,” Miranda scoffed and rolled her eyes but inwardly agreed. It was, after all, where she met the love of her life. Andrea.

With her daughters, Miranda had seen enough movies of young women twirling on the streets, a wide grin on their face as they took in the sights. This was an utterly embarrassing admission but—Andrea made her feel like that. She made Miranda feel drunk, dizzy in love. The eager, “young girl,” all-consuming love. 

Miranda was hardly young, but her behavior certainly reflected how she felt like a giddy schoolgirl. When Andrea sent her an email after Paris asking if they could meet and catch up, that was it. The moment she fell. All her feelings rushed back and hit her so hard she was rendered breathless. Her reply was analyzed to make sure there wasn’t too much excitement or too much boredom, each word picked out of the encyclopedia of her mind, and the length of the email two sentences shorter than Andrea’s. 

Those were her rules. It would do no good to scare Andrea off with declarations of affection too early or appear needy. Two days was the minimum Miranda had to wait before sending a reply. And for goodness’s sake, she had to remember to keep the emails short. 

But Andrea found ways to break her rules. Of course, that silly girl did. Another paragraph was added to each of their emails every passing month. Miranda’s wait time dwindled to one day, then a couple of hours, then one hour, then—here she always berated herself—half an hour. Sometimes ten minutes if she had a particularly tiring day. Somehow, Andrea managed to make her feel better through the screen. Surely, that was part of her skill that made her the best assistant Miranda had ever had.

Pretty soon, they exchanged numbers, and Miranda was granted the privilege of seeing Andrea’s infantile emojis (Monkey faces? Really?) and silly comments throughout the day. (Yet, she wouldn’t change anything for the world. No, she would give her entire kingdom for nothing to change.) Something surprising she learned was that Andrea liked to text her. A lot. Honestly, did reporters have all the free time in the world these days?

Another surprising fact: Miranda liked to text back, too. It wasn’t her fault. Not at all. It was the world’s fault for making her think about Andrea so much. It was someone else, not her, that made such an idiotic joke Andrea would find hilarious for some reason. It was Mother Nature, not her, that made her check up on Andrea when it poured. And when Miranda sent Andrea a bouquet, it was only because such beauty should be shared. It certainly wasn’t anything else, like her heart fluttering when she imagined making Andrea happy. Of course not. 

And when they started dating, Miranda’s world exploded. Birds chirping were no longer obnoxiously high-pitched; instead, she thought Andrea would have been delighted by them. Her work hours grew shorter—she rushed to meet Andrea for dinner. Even her staff’s incompetence was not enough to turn her into the Dragon Lady, not when Andrea could calm her down with a witty comment (and kisses later).

They exchanged emails once in a while, but mostly they communicated by text or call. Until Miranda sent Andrea a letter. 

Was it old-fashioned? Yes. Did she care? No. Did Andrea confess she was brought to tears? ...Yes. 

See, those letters coaxed out all of Miranda’s passion. Her nerves and shame disappeared in her hasty scribbling and each time she finished a letter, all her energy left her. Why writing letters felt different from emails or texts was difficult to figure out, but Miranda figured there was something so _personal_ about letters. She could add a lipstick mark (a kiss!), flowers, a dash of perfume, and beautiful stationery. Here, in the shared space between them, with no prying eyes, she could write whatever she wanted. (And write she did. Usually, her words failed her, but here they spilled out of her. _My darling Andrea, I have never believed in any greater powers until I met you. I understand now why there can be such a fervent obsession with a mystical figure. But I am unlike anyone else in the fact that I would die for love; I would die for you.)_

Any potential embarrassment Miranda felt was washed away by Andrea’s blinding smile as she crushed her in a hug, rocking them back and forth. Miranda’s face burned. No one had ever smiled or looked or embraced her in such a way before. So, yes, while it was ridiculous how Andrea made her feel, Miranda was happy anyway. So happy. 

_I don't know what it is but I got that feeling_

_Waking up in this bed next to you swear the room_

_Yeah, it got no ceiling_

_If we lay, let the day just pass us by_

_I might get to too much talking_

_I might have to tell you something_

That feeling of happiness followed Miranda around and crashed into her on the weekend, especially on Saturday mornings. Early in the morning (well, late for her) when her girls were still asleep. Or, _their_ girls, as Andrea began to casually call them.

Having their girls asleep brought the two of them some dearly needed quiet time. Time to slowly emerge into the waking world. Time for Miranda to toss a leg over Andrea’s hip (muscle strain be damned) and curl in closer, hiding her face in the nook of her neck. Time for Andrea to idly take a strand of Miranda’s hair and play with it before kissing her forehead. 

They laid quietly together before Andrea asked, “Shouldn’t we get up and get ready?”

Miranda shrugged, not even attempting to get up. “We probably should.”

Andrea chuckled, not moving either. “Alright, honey, you go first.”

She considered Andrea’s suggestion for a grand total of two seconds. “Mhm, no.”

A laugh that echoed through the room was her reward. “Alright, sweetheart, we can just lay here.”

“That was my plan.” Frowning, Miranda tugged Andrea’s band so it curled around her waist. Honestly, it was so unfair that Andrea was a walking radiator and refused to warm her without prompting. 

She huffed when Andrea chuckled, burying herself more in her arms. Laughing at her before she had her coffee was not right. 

All was resolved when Andrea tightened her grip, providing protection from the cruel world. 

“I love you.” Saying those words felt like a confession every time, every day. Miranda peeked at Andrea from her position. A logical assumption would be that the meaning and breathlessness of “I love you” would fade with time. But no, weeks after they first said it, Miranda still trembled, waiting for Andrea to either crush her or put her back together, piece by piece. 

“You know I love you,” Andrea murmured. 

And like every other time, the turmoil in Miranda swelled to a stop. It was true. She did know. 

_Stay awhile, stay awhile_

_Stay here with me_

_Stay awhile, stay awhile, oh_

_Stay awhile, stay awhile_

_Stay here with me_

_Lay here with me_

Sometimes, Miranda couldn’t sleep because of her maudlin thoughts. Staring at the ceiling, she thought about how Andrea was too good for her (or too young for her) and plotted out how and when Andrea would leave her. The initial high of dating La Priestly would fade out within the first two years. Usually, the excitement wore out earlier, much earlier, but she couldn’t help but be swayed by Andrea’s adamant reassurances. Then, Miranda would be asked “can you come home earlier?” and when she couldn’t, the thinly-veiled comments would start. Or perhaps a lecture, since Andrea prided herself on being honest and communicating. After Miranda would apologize over and over (because she truly wanted to be good for Andrea, she _did_ ), then everything would settle down. It would be so easy for Miranda to be lured into a false sense of security—she would willingly do so, in fact. Nothing would make her happier than closing her eyes while her world burned. Just as long as Andrea was there. That’s all Miranda wanted.

But, of course, that wouldn’t happen. By the third year (or fourth, if she was being generous), Andrea would start to eye younger models. Or already be sleeping with them, depending on how coldly Miranda would act. And that would be the end of another relationship. Although they weren’t married, their end would hurt worse than all her divorces combined. 

Some other times, Miranda couldn’t even pretend to rationalize everything to prepare herself. Those nights, the worst nights, panic flooded her body, clawing at her throat. Fear turned the blood in her veins ice-cold as she gripped onto the blanket. She was almost hyperventilating at the thought of Andrea leaving her. 

But every time, a strange thing happened. Andrea, miraculously roused out of her sleep, turned on her side to meet Miranda’s eyes. “Shh, stop thinking so loud. I’m here. I’m not leaving, ever.”

With those words, Miranda could finally relax. She curled around Andrea, smiling slightly at the arm thrown over her hip. However, the tight grip she had on Andrea clued her in to the fact that not everything was alright yet.

“Don’t worry too much, sweetheart.” Andrea pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

How was it that Andrea could utter such soft words that seemed to caress Miranda’s skin? How could those promises even out her breathing and make all her worries vanish? How?

Miranda could only gaze upon Andrea’s gentle face with wonderment. More importantly, what had she done to be blessed with this magnificent creature? 

Miranda was sure of only one thing: she would spend the rest of her life proving she was worthy of her darling Andrea. With that being her last thought, and Andrea rubbing her back, it was much easier to fall asleep.

_Damn, I like me better when I'm with you_

_I like me better when I'm with you_

_I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause_

_I like me better when_

_I like me better when I'm with you_

Miranda couldn’t believe she was saying this, but she changed. At fifty years old, she changed for Andrea. All-nighters? Not possible when Andrea rubbed her shoulders and lured her to bed with such a sweet tone. Her habit of forgetting to eat lunch? Either Andrea marched into Miranda’s office with take-out or requested her assistant to buy something. Gone with the days of heading home at 11 PM; she left the office as early as she could. More than that—she wanted to. 

As oxymoronic as it was, all these changes ended up becoming routine. And it would remain so as long as Andrea remained the Sun to her Earth, as long as she _stayed_ and never left. Miranda smiled to herself. Half her life was over and yet, it seemed everything she’d experienced led up to meeting Andrea. Led up to the moment where her life finally started, a new life with happiness and love. 

_(I like me, I like me)_

_(Look who you made me, made me, oh, no)_

_Better when, I like me better when I'm with you_


End file.
